One Thousand Ways to Die
by Klavierliebe
Summary: They knew it was coming. They just didn't know when... Jem's death, as many ways as I can spin it.
1. one

The sunrise breaks silver, and Tessa can only hope that fate is at work.

His slow fingers catch the pendant dangling around her neck, squeezing the beautiful ornament with feeble strength. "Thank you, Tessa," he murmurs to her, a miniscule smile stretching against his cheek. She can only press her palm against his hair and fight back the moisture blocking her vision. She knew this day was coming – as did the rest of the world. Though it was common knowledge, Jem was the only one able to accept his impending death.

"I will miss you far too much," she whispers.

He closes his eyes against the harsh beam of silver sunlight streaking in through the window. Tessa is forced to bite her lip hard to keep herself from shaking him and crying out no, no, not now_, please not now_. As if sensing her desperation, Jem places his hand over hers. "Goodbye, Tessa."


	2. two

"_Will_!"

Tessa was startled to realize that it was she who had cried out; no longer did she have control over her actions. As if in a dream, she felt herself leaping forward, toward the injured Herondale boy with so much to lose. The automaton spiraled towards them both, its mechanical eyes locked onto Tessa as if it could pierce directly into her soul. She closed her eyes.

Instead of the impact she expected, Tessa felt nothing.

The silence was the most horrid part – opening her eyes fearfully, she did not know what to expect. The answer became startlingly clear as Will gripped her wrist. She craned her neck to peer at him, safe behind her sheltering body. His sapphire eyes were huge and locked onto a point in front of her, a point she could not bear to examine.

"James," he breathed. "_James_!"

Tessa's fiancée was crumpled in front of her, one resourceful hand clutching the pipe he had used to destroy the automaton. The other hand was stationed at a point on his chest which made her dizzy to look at – there was far too much blood. "Jem!" she gasped, scrabbling on her hands and knees to his side.

His eyes fluttered open, dazedly skimming over Tessa's face. Will lunged forward, dragging his injured leg behind him as he leaned toward his _parabatai_. Jem smiled up at his closest friend, oblivious to his stricken expression as he surveyed the damage. _He sacrificed himself for us_, Tessa thought blindly, her hands finding one of Jem's to hold.

Although he must know what had happened, Jem's tiny smile stayed firmly in place. As his beautiful gray eyes slid closed, Tessa could hear a far-off screaming that she distantly identified as Will. _He is happy to be dying_, she thought. _Of course he is happy to die for us, better this than a slow glorification via his drug. _

Clamping both of her hands around his still wrist, she leaned over her fiancée and wept.


	3. three

_Knock, knock._

In a moment, Jem was at the door, pausing with his hand at the knob. Who would be knocking on at his room in the quiet hours of the night? Certainly it had to be Tessa. Smoothing down his haystack-esque hair with one hand, Jem opened the door.

"James!" Henry beamed at his housemate happily. His disheveled appearance startled Jem – one ginger tuft of hair was poking out from underneath a top hat, while his hands were stained an unusually bright shade of yellow. As if taking his surprised silence for eagerness, Henry ushered the young man to follow him. "I'm going to need your help."

Bewildered, Jem had no choice but to follow the sleep-deprived man down the dimly lit corridor. He snuck a glance at Tessa's door as he passed, but it remained quiet and closed. She must have been sleeping, he deduced.

Following Henry downstairs in the dark was more difficult than he had imagined. Jem found himself stumbling several times, and when he finally emerged into Henry's office he was winded. "Quickly, Jem, over here," Henry darted to his side, nudging the half-asleep young man to the edge of a wide table. The witchlight in this room was far too bright; Jem had to blink several dozen times to adjust his eyes. To his astonishment, he realized the table was strewn with thousands upon thousands of metal parts - mechanical hands, feet, legs, and even eyes. It was wildly disturbing.

"Henry," he began, not unkindly, "what exactly am I attempting to accomplish here?"

Pausing from his frantic activities, Henry shoved a cup of what appeared to be tea into his hands. "Drink this," he ordered, and Jem obliged immediately.

"Now, what you have just consumed is my new prototype – the fireproof liquid. It should render you incapable of burning!" Ecstatic, Henry swiped a match along the table. It burst into flames, and Jem was hit by a sudden wave of nausea. It grew to engulf his entire being; he felt as though he were attempting to get his sea legs during a storm.

The suddenly painful sensation was so intense that Jem fell to his knees instantly, gripping his stomach with both hands. Gasping, he sputtered, "Henry. _Henry_, I don't believe it works just right."

The ginger-haired scientist leaned forward, so that the flame's tongue licked at Jem's nightshirt. "Actually, it seems to be working perfectly," he said happily, his eyes glazed with the sheen of success.

No one watched Jem burn.


	4. four

He thinks he is alone when the final moments come.

As impeccable as his timing usually is, this moment takes the trophy. Instead of lying on the floor gasping for breath as he is doing right this very moment, James Carstairs _should _be standing at the end of the aisle, waiting for his lovely bride to make her way towards him. He never believed he would run out of time before he could marry Tessa.

The drug surrounds him – a fine silver powder, sprinkled around his twitching body like a ring of salt from the famous folktales. Jem doesn't know where it came from. He cannot even remember how he ended up in his room; all he is aware of is that he is dying, and he should be somewhere else.

"Tessa," he gasps, as another wave of agony overtakes him.

To his shock, another voice answers. "She is conveniently absent, my friend."

Cecily Herondale picked her way delicately over his jerking body. She was adorned with an extremely fancy dress, and smirked down at him with lips as red as the blood he had coughed up only moments before. Jem thought that he certainly must be dreaming. _No._

"My apologies," she cooed, "for skipping out on your wedding. Luckily for me, you can say the same."

_Perhaps it was the cold feet that killed him after all._

Tessa burned her wedding dress.


End file.
